Sugar Daddy
by OfPaintAndOil
Summary: He was ten years her senior and liked nothing more than buying her expensive things. He especially liked laying her back against his chest as he sipped vintage thousand-dollar wine as he listened to her talk about her day, running his fingers through her hair, but he wasn't her sugar daddy. Really, he wasn't. ItachixSakura. A whole bunch o' fluff. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to _Naruto_.

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Itachi Uchiha wasn't her sugar daddy. Really, he wasn't.

Sure, he might be almost ten years older than her and richer than she'd like to think about, but it wasn't like that. They had a real relationship. She wasn't even sleeping with him!

But when people saw them together, Sakura could practically see the words go through their heads. Him, with his black, name brand suits that cost more than her car. Her, with the diamond bracelet and shimmering red dress that he'd dragged her out shopping for. He paid for it, of course. Sakura, with her part-time job and college debts, would never even venture to those parts of town if it wasn't for her pouting boyfriend, with his greedy hands and dark eyes.

Her dress was apparently the newest design from some man who had a very French name, if the woman who was currently ogling Itachi was right. All Sakura knew was that Itachi had picked her up yesterday at the crack of dawn and dragged her around what she called the "rich part of town." He hadn't told her they were shopping for her, but Sakura supposed Itachi didn't need to. Whenever they went shopping together, she was always the one who went home with more than a dozen shopping bags.

Not that Itachi didn't buy things for himself. She'd found out early on in their relationship that he was a fashion snob. Especially when it came to shoes.

She'd also found out he was a romantic. After their third date, Sakura hadn't been able to meet him for about two weeks because she was studying for finals and he'd only distract her with his wandering hands, continually texting him to reassure him she wasn't just blowing him off and _no_ , he didn't do anything wrong. He'd been unexpectedly needy.

After her last final, she'd come home to find Itachi in her apartment, a full meal laid out on her ratty kitchen table (that of which would be promptly replaced within a week with some mahogany gift from god with six matching chairs), candles lit, and soft music playing in the background.

Sakura had almost cried right then and there. She was so damn hungry and tired, and she really just wanted to curl up in Itachi's lap and let him feed her. Maybe brush her hair.

But then Itachi had seen her shoes.

"Baby, what are you wearing?"

"What? They're comfortable."

"Those are atrocities."

"They're just crocs!"

The next day Sakura had gotten a delivery with about a hundred new pairs of shoes Itachi had apparently picked out himself. Her crocs were suspiciously missing from her closet.

(It didn't occur to her until later that she'd never given him a key to her apartment. When she brought it up to Itachi, he just smirked softly at her and said, fondly, "Baby, I'm _very_ rich."

She hadn't understood exactly what he'd meant then. She did now.)

The thing was, Sakura hadn't known who Itachi was when she'd met him. She'd just been a starving college student who'd gotten an uncommon break one day when a class let out early and had ducked into a coffee shop on her way home.

Itachi, classy business man he was, had been on his phone and didn't look up until his very, _very_ hot drink was on her shirt. He had cursed lowly and started to fuss over her, despite Sakura's reassurances that it was alright. (In truth, she'd felt like crying. It had been such a long, brutal week, but really, when wasn't it? And all she'd wanted was a coffee, and this happened and—)

It was his concern that hooked her. She'd expected him to be annoyed, maybe curse at her about how she wasted his perfectly good coffee and didn't she understand how very busy a man like he was?

But that wasn't what happened. Instead, here was this dark eyed, tall man fussing over her like she was a child who fell over. The coffee burned like a bitch, and Itachi was trying to blot her clothes and at some point had run over to the counter to get a glass of water for her. He'd maneuvered her over to a chair and made her sit down, even when she tried to get up because it was obvious the stain was simply just not going to come out and she just wanted to go home, take a shower, and take a long overdue catnap.

Itachi wouldn't let her go, though. He kept saying how sorry he was and when Sakura said she needed to go change clothes, he got a glint in his dark eyes that Sakura had come to know well.

Somehow, he'd convinced her to go shopping with him. Sakura still wasn't sure how he'd managed to do that without her immediate refusal—he was still a stranger, after all. A very good looking stranger, but still.

He'd made her model all the outfits for him. He'd walked right into one of the overpriced stores with it's white, marble floors and mirrors everywhere and immediately been greeted by a man twice Itachi's age. He'd looked Sakura over with a critical eye, pausing on the large coffee stain and her red skin. She'd coughed uncomfortably, but the older man had just smiled at her after Itachi explained what had happened and showed her some clothes.

Sakura had ended up going home with five new pairs of outfits. There hadn't been any price tags on any of the clothes, which concerned Sakura, and she'd panicked when she was in the dressing room. Itachi had knocked on her door after a few minutes, even after she refused to show him anymore clothes and could they please just be done?

The only reason she hadn't gone home with at least ten new outfits was because Itachi could obviously see how uncomfortable she was about the whole situation, but still couldn't stop himself from buying her the five new sets.

He'd asked her out on a date after that. She'd said yes, because it had been so long since she'd been on a date and she missed human interaction that didn't involve a scalpel and study sessions. She didn't talk with her family much ever since she'd left for college, and she almost never had time for friends unless it included doing homework. Plus, doing things costed money, which she did not have.

Itachi had taken her to a reasonably nice restaurant on their first date. It was still overly expensive in Sakura's opinion, but wasn't to Itachi's standards, as she would come to find out later. He'd seen how uncomfortable she was with the clothes and seemed to be trying to take things slow. (Well, slow for him, she supposed.)

They'd chatted. Sakura had the best night she could remember since she started college. It was all very nice. She'd asked all the inane questions that were common on first dates, including "So, Itachi, what do you do?"

He was a businessman, which she'd already figured out. He worked for his family's company, Uchiha Corp.

She'd just nodded and continued to smile, not really noticing the way he scrutinized her features when he dropped his last name. It wouldn't be until the fifth date that Sakura had begun to realize just who Itachi Uchiha was.

Prodigy, they called him. Business genius. Heartless and ruthless CEO of Uchiha Corp.

Billionaire.

When Sakura had first heard that, she'd laughed. Sure, she'd figured out Itachi was rich, but billionaire? Come _on_.

And then the presents started happening. He'd given her little things after their first date. Flowers, jewelry, a book she'd mentioned. But it wasn't until after their little dinner at her place that the big things started to arrive.

He apparently hadn't understood what she'd meant when she told him about school and paying for everything for herself. She'd mentioned it before when he asked her if she lived with her family, but _apparently_ he hadn't actually thought about what her place might look like.

It wasn't a hovel, okay? But it wasn't excessive by any means. Sakura bought the bare minimum and saved the rest of her money for food and textbooks.

It started with the dining room table. Then the couch. Then the kitchen. Then bedsheets.

Sakura hated it. Little gifts? Those were fine, but when she started to look up the prices of the things Itachi was buying her, it made her head spin. What made it worse was when she'd begun to realize that what she considered "little" gifts before were actually real diamonds.

Sakura refused to believe it at first. The bracelet and matching earrings had to be knockoffs. They couldn't _actually_ be the real deal. They couldn't _actually_ be worth more than one year of her college tuition.

But then she'd started to look up Uchiha Corp. And, oh, she became a believer pretty damn fast.

The company's net worth was _insane_. Their business deals including going overseas to China, Morocco, France, and once, even Russia. Itachi might have been the heir to the company, but, _damn_ , if his track record said anything, he was damn good at what he did.

It was their first big fight. They'd been together for almost a month, and Sakura—innocent little naïve college girl who hadn't actually had a boyfriend before Itachi though she was—thought they were moving kinda fast. She was no expert on that kind of thing, but when Itachi made it clear he wanted to be exclusive with her after the second date and the very expensive presents starting coming thereafter, well, she might have freaked out a little.

He was ten years older than her. Thirty-one. He didn't look it, and when Sakura had first met him in the coffee shop she'd known he was older than her, but not by ten years. It didn't really bother her, though. She enjoyed that he was so mature.

"It makes me feel cheap," she'd told him through tears. They'd been arguing for almost an hour. Her, trying to explain to him why when she came home to find that he'd replaced her twin sized bed with a king sized with matching pastel pink sheets made her feel awful without hurting his feelings. Him, not able to understand why it upset her so much.

"I like buying you things, sweetheart," he'd said, pulling her to his chest. He smoothed her hair down, ignored the smell of formaldehyde that had clung to her ever since her anatomy lab earlier that day. "Accepting them doesn't make you cheap."

Sakura's emotions were already frayed from her last two exams. When she'd seen the new bed, beautiful though it was, she'd just . . . lost it. All that pent-up emotion came crashing down. It was partly her fault, she knew, since she should have brought up how uncomfortable the gifts made her earlier.

But it was such an odd thing to be upset about. They weren't sleeping together, but the word _whore_ had gone through her head more than once. Yes, she understood that wasn't what she was, that they actually had a real relationship that wasn't just about sex and money. Yes, she realized it was her insecurities rising to the surface, the fact she was so much younger than Itachi, so inexperienced.

Eventually, she got him to agree to tone it down. He wouldn't let her return anything he'd already given her, but he'd try not to buy so many things for her anymore.

He lied.

It lasted for about a week before he caved. Sakura had just gotten home from her part-time job as waitress in a little diner—something Itachi had wrinkled his nose at when she'd told him—and found a rather large box sitting on her front porch.

She couldn't remember ordering any more textbooks for class and thought maybe it had been delivered to the wrong doorstep. Her neighbor did tend to get a lot of packages and it wouldn't be the first time it was delivered to her by accident.

But it had her name on it. And when she'd opened it, she'd bound a smaller, black box with sweeping gold letters on it. She hadn't recognized the name, but after being with Itachi she'd begun to realize how to see money in things. And this had money written all over it.

Sakura had swallowed thickly and opened the black box. She'd had to blink a few times to understand exactly what she was looking at, but when she did, she'd nearly choked.

She was dialing faster than her fingers could keep up with. It rang no more than two times before she heard Itachi, purring down the line with a deep, "Babygirl."

She hadn't paid attention to his nicknames for her until then. Baby. Sweetheart. _Babygirl_.

Sakura felt her nail digging into the wood of her new, ultra-expensive dining room table. The first thing out of her mouth was, "Am I your sugar baby?"

She said it fast, like the words burned. The idea hadn't actually occurred to her until the words were out of her mouth—at least, not in those expressed terms—but once she'd said it, all she could think about was their age difference, how attentive he was, how much money he'd been spending on her, and now, _this_.

There'd been a long pause on the other line as Sakura heard Itachi moving into what she guessed was another room, closing the door softly behind him. She remembered he was at work and briefly wondered through the haze of overwhelming emotion if she'd interrupted something important.

"I take it you got my gift?"

" _Itachi_." Sakura fisted her hands and brought one in front of her mouth, having to speak around it for Itachi to hear her. "What is this?"

"If you don't like it, that's fine." For the first time, Itachi Uchiha actually sounded _nervous_. "I just know a woman who designs lingerie and when I saw some of it, I thought of you and I just—" He paused to take a breath. "Did I overstep a boundary?"

Sakura let out a chocked laugh. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the contents of the black box—the _lingerie_ , she made herself think. God, she'd never even owned lingerie. And this box was just full of it, everything from black lace to pastel pink and yellow to sinning red—

"Itachi, there are babydolls in here," she'd whispered, horrified. She was resolutely going to ignore the strappy pieces that she was sure she'd never understand how to put on. (Not that she'd even want to—maybe—)

" _Babydolls_ , Itachi," she went on. "How am I supposed to take this?"

He'd sounded hopeful. "As a thoughtful gift?"

She'd hung up on him.

He'd shown up on her doorstep later that night, a bouquet of irises in his hands. He'd been smart enough not to get her another gift, but apparently hadn't been able to resist picking up her favorite flowers for her.

"I'm sorry," he said the second she'd opened the door for him, offering her the flowers. "I wasn't thinking."

Sakura had just nodded and let him in, taking the flowers and letting him trail after her into her kitchen where she rummaged through her cabinets to find a vase large enough to hold the flowers. She let him shift his weight from foot-to-foot awkwardly, this billionaire of a ruthless CEO. When he got that obvious glint in his eyes when he saw her smudgy, cracked vase, she gave him a very pointed glare that resulted in him shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at the floor, pouting.

Once they were sitting down on her couch, Itachi blurted out, "You're not my sugar baby." He was blushing, and Sakura took a moment to admire just how _lovely_ Itachi Uchiha was.

He'd tried to pull her over to him, but when she resolutely stayed on the far end of the couch (a soft tan leather that had cost more than she'd ever thought someone could pay for a couch), he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was starting to come loose from his ponytail.

"Then what was with the lingerie?" she asked, feeling her chest constrict again.

"Oh, baby," Itachi murmured, seeing her clench her fists. "That—That was nothing. I just saw it and I thought of you and how good you'd look in any of it and I . . . I just like buying things for you. Is that so wrong?"

"This isn't like buying flowers," Sakura had whispered. "It's different."

"Yeah, I know. You're right. I just didn't think," he said, reaching again for her, trying to get her to come over and sit with him—preferably _on_ him, but he'd take what he could get—but still she'd refused to budge.

"Do you understand why I'm upset?" Sakura asked.

"I . . . I think so." Itachi looked down at his hands. Sakura had remembered when she'd first looked up his name and found a slew of articles about the heartless, handsome bachelor CEO of Uchiha Corp. How he ruled his business with an iron fist and went through employees like children's candy.

But here he was, sitting in front of her, head bowed and still trying to get her to come over so he could wrap her up in his arms, begging her with every movement made and word spoken.

He took a breath. "Is it because of the money or the lingerie?" he asked.

"What?"

"You're upset about the lingerie, which I get now, but is it more because it's _lingerie_ that I gave you and what expectations that may hold or because of how much it cost?"

Sakura thought about it. "Both, I guess."

"Okay," Itachi breathed out. "Here's the thing, baby: I like buying you things. I really, _really_ like it. I like taking breaks between meetings and getting a phone call from designer friends who know about you and want to email me some ideas they have. I like going through pictures and sketches and thinking about how things would look on you. I like seeing you wear the bracelet I got you and see you enjoy it not because of how much it cost, but because I gave it to you. I like the idea of draping you in luxury simply because I _can_."

Itachi gave up on trying to get her to move closer to him and instead shuffled over with jerky movements until he was right next to Sakura, lifting her petite form up and onto his lap in one swift move, where she fit so perfectly, tucked into his body where he could feel every breath she took. Sakura grumbled, but didn't really try to push him away.

"I apologize for making you uncomfortable. I understand why it upset you to get the lingerie and I even understand how you thought about the sugar baby thing, but that's not it at all. I have no expectations for you. I know you're inexperienced—" he grinned at her blush and tapped her on the nose just because she was so close and he could. "—and whenever you want to take that step, I'll be so happy and so grateful, but we're not going to do anything you don't want to do. If you don't want to do anything more than hold my hand for the next six months, I'll still want to buy you pretty and expensive things."

"It's just too much," Sakura grumbled into his shirt.

She felt the lift of his chest as he took a big breath, letting it out slowly, tickling the hair on her scalp. "Okay. No more lingerie, then."

"Or furniture."

He grumbled. "You needed it."

She pinched him and he jumped.

Leaning down, Itachi feathered a kiss over the top of her head, ignoring her unwashed hair. "I bought the lingerie for _you_ , babygirl. Not me."

"Really?"

"Well," he drawled, brushing his thumb over her jawline. "If you ever want to model some of those pieces for me, by all means—"

She pinched him again, hard. Then something occurred to her.

"Hey, how did you know what size I wear?" She looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

He'd just grinned down at her and cooed about how adorable she was.

Things had been okay after that. Mostly. He still bought her too many things, dragged her along on too many shopping sprees that he always told her were for him, but she was the one who'd undoubtedly end up going home with too many things. She was running out of space in her apartment for all those things.

The day before the formal event Itachi had convinced her to go along with him to, when he'd dragged her out during the morning to go shopping for a dress to wear, she'd told him just that. He'd looked down at her—he was so damn tall, sometimes it really annoyed Sakura, especially when she wanted to give him a kiss and had to stand on her tiptoes _and_ bunch his shirt up to drag his mouth down to meet hers—and said that he'd just have to get her an apartment with more room.

She hit his arm, but was _pretty sure_ he was just joking. He typically knew when too much really was too much. Usually. Sometimes.

God, she really hoped he was joking.

Now, she stood in the ballroom surrounded by Itachi's crowd, listening halfheartedly to the woman who'd made the comment about Sakura's red dress and was nearly drooling over Itachi even when Sakura was standing _right fucking there_. She was taking dainty sips from her glass of champagne, feeling more and more amused as the woman tried to drape herself over Itachi, who wasn't even making an attempt to hide how disgusted he was with her behavior.

Itachi kept on giving Sakura side glances every time the woman put a hand on his arm or pushed out her cleavage, like _is this okay_ and _I swear I don't like her please don't be angry._

Sakura was immensely enjoying herself.

These kinds of events always gave Sakura a peak into what Itachi was like when he wasn't with her. She'd discovered that the "heartless CEO" headlines weren't lies. His cold demeaner the minute he wasn't looking at her had given Sakura chills the first few times. When Itachi noticed, his eyes had softened and he'd rubbed soothing circles onto her back, whispering a mumbled _sorry, babygirl_ that only she could hear.

When Itachi had told her how much he enjoyed seeing her in the clothes he'd bought for her, it had taken her a while to realize just how _much_. But whenever she noticed the hitch in his breathing and the way he wiped his hands on his thousand-dollar jacket gave her a pretty good indication, and Sakura found quite a bit of power and pride in that she could get a reaction like that out of him.

She was trying to ignore the looks shot her way. This was the hardest part of their relationship: the _looks_. Older men ogling her like a piece of meat when she walked in on Itachi's arm, hidden innuendos to Itachi about the young pink haired beauty draped in finery.

Itachi was good at dealing with it. He knew just what to say to shut down any of the men or women who said anything. He made sure to never touch her in even a remotely sexual way, hand always around her waist or resting on her back, introducing her to literally _everyone_ as his girlfriend, not just _acquaintance_ or _friend_ or _lover_. Eventually, the looks toned down, the comments stopped. For the most part, at least. Sakura had learned to ignore it.

Sakura was on her third glass of wine when her feet really started to hurt. She already hated wearing heels, but against her better judgement she'd worn the tall black heels Itachi had practically salivated over. She was coming to regret that life choice.

Itachi, ever attentive of all her needs, was immediately at her side, hand at her back, saying his goodbyes to the ogling woman and her unfortunate husband, leading Sakura out of the ballroom and calling for his driver.

"We didn't have to leave," she said, though Sakura was secretly glad she could finally sit down and take off these blasted—albeit cute—shoes. "I know these functions are important to you."

"There are always more, sweetheart." Itachi's driver pulled up, got out of the car and opened the door for them. Itachi went in first and dragged Sakura down after him, not even letting her sit down properly before swinging her feet up onto his lap, her back resting against the door the driver had just shut. "Plus, your feet hurt. What kind of sugar daddy would I be if I didn't attend to the needs of my sugar baby?" he teased with a soft smile.

Sakura snorted. Ever since she'd asked him if she was his sugar baby, Itachi had been relentless with the teasing and jokes about it. Sakura, surprisingly, was okay with it and teased back.

"Not a very good one, that's for sure," she said, grinning.

He unclasped her heels and gently took them off, laying them on the floor. Gently, Itachi pushed his thumb into her heel, moving in slow, deep circles. Sakura let out a low groan and let her head fall back against the window, hearing Itachi chuckle softly.

"My place okay?" he asked after a few minutes, switching feet. "I thought we could go swimming."

Sakura had been spending more time at his home ever since he dropped a comment about having an outdoor pool and jacuzzi. Sometimes, when Itachi could manage it, he'd coax her to stay the night, saying that he had more than one guest bedroom she could stay in. Of course, they both knew Itachi wouldn't let her out of his arms and would curl around her in his giant bed, leg thrown over hers, her hair still damp and wearing one of his shirts and oversized sweatpants.

"Hmm," Sakura agreed. Itachi hit a particular spot on her foot that had her gasping. "Do that again."

She felt his lips brush over her toes and she wiggled them in annoyance. Itachi hit that spot again.

Itachi carried her shoes inside when they got to his place, Sakura walking ahead, barefoot. She changed into one of the swimsuits Itachi and just oh-so casually stocked his closet with. Outside, Itachi was already in the jacuzzi, a bottle of wine next to him being pouring into two glasses. Sakura didn't need to see the bottle to know it was some ridiculously expensive brand probably about a hundred years old. Or older. Sakura didn't really understand wine talk.

When she floated over to him, Itachi handed her a glass and leaned back against the wall, sitting down on the built-in bench. His arm wrapped around Sakura as he pulled her back against his smooth, wet chest, situating her between his legs as she let her own legs float out in front of her, analyzing her pink pedicure.

Sakura leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder. She could feel Itachi's nose in her hair, still coiled and sprayed into perfection.

She liked Itachi. Really, _really_ liked him. She liked that she could call him at any time of the day or night and he'd answer and that he was the first one to text her in the mornings and that she didn't feel like she had to be strong around him all the time. For the first time in a very long time, she could take a break from being the hard, professional student who never got below a B+ on any exam. All of her overboiling emotions could come to the surface with Itachi and he'd just listen to her cry or rant and situate her on his lap and brush his fingers through her hair.

And she'd figured out that for him, she was his relief in that he could spoil her. He could show how much he liked pretty things by dressing her up in the latest fashion and take care of her in this way. She didn't expect his money or his power when she met him, and so she had no expectations for him.

Now, she started to tell him about her week. Her week from hell, really. But her weeks were always busy, and at one point early on in their relationship Sakura had gotten worried that Itachi was tired of hearing about her exams and that one bitch in her pharmacology class and professors from hell, but he'd always reassure her that he loved nothing more than hearing about her week, even if it was just her ranting. Which it usually was.

And he really did love to hear her talk. He'd usually coerce her into his lap—his favorite place for her to be—whether they be on the couch or in the jacuzzi or even that one time in his oversized bathtub when she'd gotten sick and would ask her about her day. She'd spend hours talking and ranting and all Itachi would do was sip vintage wine and hum into her neck and hair at the right points in a story.

When Itachi's wine glass was empty and she knew he wanted more but didn't want to unwrap his arm from around her to pour more wine, Sakura handed him her nearly untouched glass.

He kissed her neck. "Thank you, babygirl. Did you not like it?"

She shrugged. "Wine's more your thing, not mine."

He hummed. "Do you remember what you said the other day about not having enough room in your apartment for all my gifts?"

"Yes," Sakura said slowly, hesitantly. "Why?"

"Well, I was thinking—"

"I swear to god, Itachi, if you bought me an apartment—"

He chuckled. "I didn't buy you an apartment, sweetheart," he said. Sakura relaxed, until he said, "I was going to ask you if you'd move in with me."

She froze and Itachi felt it.

"I mean—It's only if you're comfortable with it—"

Sakura swallowed thickly. She suddenly wanted her wine back. "We've only been dating for six months . . ."

"I know," Itachi said, and she actually _heard_ him swallow. He took a breath. "But I'm serious about this—us. I know we're moving fast but—"

"Okay."

He stopped. "Okay?" he said, rising excitement in his voice. His grip on her tightened. "I mean, I don't want to pressure you to do anything you don't want to do, babygirl—"

Sakura tilted her head back to look at his face, saw his fluttering lashes and dilated pupils, blown wide. She feathered a touch over his chin, over his sharp cheekbones and heard him hiss out a breath.

She licked her lips. "Not right now, I don't think. But maybe soon. Let me think about it."

Itachi's eyes fluttered closed, just for a moment, before he opened them and smiled down at her, tightening his grip and setting her wine glass down, moving that free hand up to her hair to play with the strands that had come free.

"Okay, babygirl. Whatever you want."

They talked more about her week from hell, and then his week and the boring business meeting that Itachi had been texting her under the table during. Eventually, though, they lost things to say. Sakura was still leaning back against Itachi's chest, thinking about moving in with him, what that would be like, how many more things Itachi would buy for her under the pretense that it was for him too now that they lived together, when Itachi said, amusement thick in his voice, "You know, if we moved in together it would stop the rumors about you being my sugar baby."

Sakura had been on the verge of falling asleep against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart, lulled by the warmth of the water against the contrast of the cool night air, but now she was wide awake.

"Are you seriously trying to bribe me with that as an initiative to move in with you? Really?"

Itachi leaned down to kiss her throat, his tongue peeking out to lick her skin, causing her to gasp. "I am a _very_ clever businessman, babygirl."

Sakura just pinched him and laughed at his pouting.

* * *

Author's Note: And here is the Sugar Daddy!Itachi AU literally no one asked for. I think I'm sorry? Honestly, this was so much effing fun to write. I've been in a writing funk for a while now and I accidently found myself reading other Sugar Daddy kind of stories and suddenly _bam!_ Sugar Daddy!Itachi was created within my head and wouldn't leave me alone.

If it's not already obvious, I wrote this in one sitting, did one quick peek through, and then published it. So, no, it's not perfect and it's not really meant to be. This is just a fun quick one-shot I wrote for myself. No judging.

If anyone knows of any Sugar Daddy type AU stories (I will literally take any fic right now from any fandom), please tell me about it! Some of the ones I've read have been so good and I find the idea both funny and super interesting. I didn't even understand what a Sugar Daddy really was until someone told me about it. And I was like, "I gotta go write about this."

I don't know when _With Blood on His Lips_ will be updated. I've kinda lost the trend with that story, and so I'm thinking it will maybe have one or two more chapters and I'm gonna call it quits. Sorry about that, but I'm dealing with some personal issues right now along with health issues, so I've not been myself.

Please **REVIEW**! If—and this is a very big IF—I decide to write more for this story, would anyone be interested? I'm gonna tell you right now this story wouldn't really have one direction or theme, just Sugar Daddy!Itachi and Starving College Student!Sakura fluff with no direction whatsoever. (Obviously, smut will **not** happen. I don't write that.)


	2. Chapter 2

Standard disclaimer applies.

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The first time Sakura and Itachi had a true fight, it was about his expensive gifts, but the second time was about her family.

Itachi had introduced her to his whole family not even two weeks after the first date. They were close nit, that much Sakura could tell. And they all looked creepily alike, her bubblegum pink hair sticking out like a needle in a haystack.

They loved her. Mikoto cooed over her while Fukagu clapped Itachi on the back and mumbled something about it being " _about time you found yourself a woman_." When Mikoto had pulled Sakura over to her room to look through family heirlooms that cost more than Sakura would make in five years, she got a little freaked out. Mikoto's eyes had gleamed a little too much when she'd forced Sakura to put on some of the Uchiha jewelry, mumbled something about " _finally getting those grandchildren_."

If Sakura had squeezed Itachi's hand a little too hard when it was time to leave and if she was practically pulling him out of the Uchiha estate, well, he never said anything about it.

She didn't have a problem with meeting Itachi's family. Maybe she thought it was a little soon to start introducing family members, but as far as things Itachi did that concerned her, this wasn't high on the list.

The problem, however, happened as she was moving her things into Itachi's home. She'd finally agreed to move in with him a few months after he'd first brought up the idea, after him teasing and probing her about how much easier it would be if he didn't have to drive across town to see her and how his home was actually closer to her workplace—that of which he was still dropping not-so-subtle hints about how she should quit because he had more than enough money to keep them both in luxury for the rest of their lives. Sakura studiously ignored him.

Itachi wanted to know when she was planning on introducing him to her family. He'd brought it up casually . . . or as casually as he could. For a ruthless CEO, Itachi was surprisingly awkward around her. Mostly he just looked down to her hands that he'd placed in his lap, fiddling with her fingers and inspecting her nails as he mumbled something about her family and introductions and how it was only proper now that they lived together.

Sakura hadn't told Itachi about her family. She didn't tell him about how she hadn't had so much as a phone call with them since she left for college. Sometimes Sakura didn't think Itachi fully grasped what it meant that she'd moved out with next to nothing in her bank account to pursue a degree in pre-med and then—hopefully—medical school afterwards, all the while working odd jobs to pay the bills.

It wasn't that her parents were bad people or ignored her or were in any way the kind of people you'd tell stories about as a what-not-to-do guide for new parents. They feed her, went to all her volleyball games, encouraged her to follower her dreams and so on and so forth.

The problem arose when she started to look at colleges. Her parents wanted her to stay close to home and Sakura wanted to go to her dream school, which just so happened to be a few hours away. Her parents questioned her decisions and—whether they realized they were doing it or not—belittled her. How would she support herself? How would she manage part-time jobs and schoolwork and manage to keep her grades? She had to work twice as hard as other students in her major, so how much extra stress would she have to deal with, and was she ready for it?

And all of those were good, understandable questions. But what got Sakura was that they never thought about how it _could_ work, only how it _wouldn't_ work. They never gave it a chance.

What ended up happening was a lot of boiled over emotions from her mother, crying from Sakura, and a one-foot-out-of-the-room father, who only sometimes agreed with her mother but mostly just wanted to stay out of it. Looking back, Sakura understands what was emotional manipulation and what was just the product of two emotional women with backbones of steel in such close proximately to each other.

She almost didn't go. She'd gotten a full ride to her town's community college, but it wasn't what she really wanted. A part of her just wanted to see if she could do it, if she could support herself all on her own.

Phone calls were sparse at first. But it got to the point where there was so much charged history between her and her parents that even hearing their voices sent her skin crawling and emotions frayed. Sparse phone calls turned into nonexistent phone calls, no trips home for holidays, and only the occasional card or gift and a voicemail on birthdays.

Sakura didn't really want to dreg up that story. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell it to _Itachi_ , it was just that she didn't want to talk about it _at all_. She'd come to terms with what had happened, and while there were some days she missed her parents more than anything, she was also strong enough to see she was healthier—mentally, emotionally healthier—now than she'd ever been, even with the stress of school and work on her shoulders.

Bringing up the story now was only reopening old wounds. And how could she put into words everything that had happened between her and her parents in a way that would explain to him what she went through? That would get him to understand—would get _anyone_ to understand?

It was like teaching WWII to high school students. You could explain about Hitler and the millions killed for no other crime than being born. You could show them gruesome pictures of concentration camps and bodies pilled upon bodies in mass grave, and they wouldn't really get it. You couldn't truly understand the pain of another person unless you lived through it.

But she'd tried. She tried to tell him how they didn't get along and they weren't involved enough in her life to warrant being introduced to her boyfriend. ( _Boyfriend_ —such an interesting term for what Itachi was. Better than sugar daddy and sugar baby, she supposed—)

Itachi hadn't gotten it. He'd nodded and said that he'd still like to meet them to properly introduce himself, to show them he cared about their daughter, even if Sakura didn't care about their opinion.

Sakura said no. She didn't want to hurt Itachi's feelings, but she wasn't about to call up her parents to schedule a visit with them for Itachi to introduce himself. She wasn't having that conversation—more importantly, she wasn't going to sit in her childhood home and listen to her mother's hidden hits at Sakura's life choices and watch as her father tried to disappear and not be a part of the conversation.

At first, Itachi had just pouted and tried to wheedle his way into getting an introduction. But when Sakura sank her heels into the ground and continued to say no, Itachi started to get hurt. Insulted. Why didn't she want her parents to know about him? Was it the age difference, the possibility they might come to the same conclusion as so many other people about the nature of their relationship? Was it because she lived with him?

Sakura had tried to explain it in more depth, but explaining it meant reliving it, and then her eyes started misting and, of course, Itachi noticed and immediately started to panic.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked, cradling her cheek.

Sakura barked out a laugh. "Haven't you been listening? They—"

"I know you've said you didn't get along and haven't spoken to them, but I mean _did they hurt you?_ "

"Physically?" Sakura asked, raising her brows. "No. No no no. Of course not. But—I _just_ —" Her voice got muffled by her tears again, two escaping against her attempts to blink them away and keep her eyes on the ceiling lights.

"Okay," Itachi breathed. He sucked in a breath through his nose and let it out slowly. "Okay. We don't have to meet them."

Sakura just nodded into his suit jacket. She'd come by during his lunch break to see if he wanted to go out with her. She didn't have any more classes that day and had a day off from work, and Sakura knew he'd been in endless meetings from the last two weeks, so neither had seen the other as much as they'd like.

They were still in his office. The first time Sakura had seen it, she'd teased Itachi about the leather chairs and how for one man, he sure seemed to need a lot of room. He'd just smirked and dropped an innuendo about breaking in his new suede coach with her.

Itachi had pulled her over to that same couch now. It _was_ comfy, Sakura noted. She didn't want to know how much it must have cost.

After that day, they didn't talk about it. Itachi asked her if it would be okay if they had dinner over at the Uchiha estate sometimes, and Sakura said okay. She loved Mikoto, even with how she was a little overbearing at times. She found Fugaku amusing. She found Sasuke tiresome and more than a little bit of a brat. (And if she and Itachi were conspiring against him and oh-so subtly throwing bits of napkin at his hair to see how many they could get to stick with how much hair gel the boy had on, well, that was only between them and a grinning, sly Mikoto.)

It was only after a month of living together that Sakura wondered when their honeymoon phase would end. They'd been attached at the hip, but she didn't think it could last.

But two months came since they moved in together, then three, then five, and they'd been dating for almost a year and Itachi was still wheedling his way more thoroughly into her life than Sakura had thought possible. Somehow he still found ways to insert himself into every ounce of her being, in ways she hadn't thought possible.

When she got a break, just a minute of free time, her first thought was if she could call Itachi. When Itachi got out of a meeting that left him irritated and a little twitchy, he found her, no matter where she was. Sometimes this meant coming to her university and getting her out of class, her participation points intact, and cajoling her into sitting in his office for the rest of the day and long into the night as he worked. She'd study and watch him as he sat there, running his hands through his hair when no one else but she could see.

At some point, she'd say she was hungry, and his head would snap up to blink at her, then the clock, and curse quietly as he said, "Babygirl, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking about the time. What would you like? Chinese? Thai?"

And sometimes they'd set up dinner right there in his office. Sometimes eating on the floor, since that was were Sakura would oftentimes have her notes and laptop spread out on, her weird preference of the floor over the comfy couch. The first time she'd done it, Itachi had blinked down at her and offered to buy to new couch she'd prefer.

Sometimes she would sit on one of the leather chairs and Itachi would push aside his work on his desk and they'd eat there, Sakura sitting on the very edge of the chair, forever in fear of getting a stain on his ultra-expensive upholstery. (Not that he'd care, of course.)

On the bad days, Itachi would get her to his office to only situate her on his lap and close the gap between them. His hands would cradle the back of her head and slip under her shirt, drawling circles on her skin. She'd slide her hands into his hair, careful of his neat ponytail, and listen to him breathe, his panting breaths sometimes, his soft whispers other times.

And sometimes, on the very, _very_ rare occasions when a deal didn't go well or someone just said the wrong thing to him on an already bad day, he'd grip her waist a little too tight. Never enough to hurt her. Never enough for her to be uncomfortable. But Itachi was always, _always_ so gentle with her, so careful around her, that the first time it happened, she'd gasped. Just a little bit, but enough for him to hear and for him to break the kiss.

He'd panicked. He'd looked at her sides were his nails had dug in and his hands had roamed, and panicked.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, babygirl. Did I hurt you? _Fuck_ , I'm so sorry." He'd buried his face in her hair, breathing in.

She'd told him it was fine— _she_ was fine. He hadn't even left a mark, and Sakura _knew_ that she'd left a few marks on him before.

But he'd still came home the next day with matching ruby earrings and a necklace. Her closet had found itself full of even more shoes and purses that she'd likely never use.

It took her a while to realize that the gifts weren't for her, but for him. And if buying her a ridiculous amount of gifts was what cleared his conscious of something that Sakura had already forgotten about, well, he could have at it.

The next time it happened, Sakura didn't gasp. She actually purred a little bit.

It wasn't that she wanted him to be rough with her. In fact, Sakura was pretty sure that if Itachi did ever change from the gentle man he was with her, who constantly asked her if what he was doing was okay, if he was pushing any boundaries, if she was comfortable, if she was hungry or wanted a coffee or the whole damn world on a platter, she'd be disappointed and upset.

But she _liked_ knowing that he let loose around her from time to time. She _liked_ hearing him groan into her mouth and hissing in pleasure when she dug her own nails into his scalp.

And when they'd finally part, lips cherry red and breath mingled, he'd pull her against him. Sakura would just listen to him breath as he talked about his day, about his failed meeting or business deal or how those effing Senjus were _really_ starting to tick him off. She'd just play with the buttons of his jacket and hum in reply.

And later, when they finally went home, when Sakura would fall face first into her pillow, so utterly exhausted from the day and just about to fall asleep, she'd feel his hands on her back as he straddled her, massaging her muscles and lulling her to sleep even more quickly.

And when he'd hear her breaths even out, Itachi would shower and come back to throw one of his leg over hers as his breath hitched at how Sakura would instinctively shuffle closer to him in bed.

And sometimes, his hand would shake when he brushed her hair out of her face, letting her breathing lull him to sleep as well.

* * *

Author's Note: I would just like to say I was peer pressured into writing this by you guys. Like, oh my gosh. So many comments. Sooo many very nice comments.

Obviously, thank you for commenting on this story. I really wouldn't have written this if it wasn't for all those nice comments. But, goodness, I enjoyed it. ;p

Again, there is literally no direction for this story. There will be no concise timeline either. I'm probably going to jump around if more chapters happen. And if I do continue, its gonna be really, really short chapters. Maybe one chapter about Sakura being on her period and Itachi not knowing what to do to help or her birthday or out shopping or something like that. Maybe him buying her more lingerie when she's not paying attention because she looked at a piece for more than five seconds one time. IDK.

I kinda wanted to write about their relationship too. Because I sometimes stumble upon stories where the main female character wants everything intimate to be rough and the guy to be dominate, and while it's fine if a girl is into that, I get tired when there's not a whole lot of the opposite. Sometimes it's just nice to have someone else take care of you. Sometimes it's perfect to have a significant other to be gentle and not dominate, because not everyone likes the whole power play thing. Women don't always want a manly-man and all that crap. Gentle and sweet is good, guys.

Please **REVIEW**!


	3. Chapter 3

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

Sakura was having a shitty week.

It started with asshole customers at the diner she worked at. There were always asshole customers, and Sakura had long ago figured out how to paste a smile onto her face—one that made her skin feel stretched and sore after a full shift—and bat her lashes in her best _please give me a decent tip_ look.

But that week it was just one asshole after another. There were the three businessmen who'd started out flirty and tried to look up her skirt more than once, even going so far as to purposely knock off his cup of coffee onto the ground so Sakura would have to bend over to clean it up, having to clench her fist when he looked at her with a sly smile of _oops, sorry about that, sweetheart_. Sakura let herself think a very sarcastic comment about how his slimy hands must not be all that great at holding things in her head, remembering to _smile smile smile_ for the fucking (asshole) customer.

Though they did leave her a decent tip, despite her efforts to make sure they never saw up her skirt. But then there was the old lady who had one-upped the slimy businessman and instead of spilling coffee on the floor, she spilled hot coffee all over Sakura, having been gesturing wildly to her old lady friends and smacking Sakura's tray right out of her hand. And then the old woman had the gale to demand her meal free because some of the coffee had dripped onto her shoes. Her very ugly shoes, the kind that anyone would see in a store and know that only a bitter old lady would wear and call it fashionable.

She did not leave a tip.

And then Sakura had four exams that week, and while she was confident she'd gotten an A on at least two of them, maybe a low B on one and the other somewhere in the hazy zone of an A and a B, she'd been doing close to all-nighters for them. By the middle of the week she was cranky and was debating the repercussions if she put an IV in her arm and pumped her bloodstream full of caffeine.

But what _really_ just kicked off the week was her period coming a few days earlier than she'd expected (not that she'd ever kept very good track of it), and found herself without a pad in the bathroom of her school, about ready to cry as she had to ask one of her friends for something. And then her friends only had tampons, and Sakura _hated_ using tampons because, fuck it, she could always feel them and _yes_ , she was putting them in correctly. There was no choice, though, and by the time she made it home she was holding in tears.

Itachi had taken one look at her and started panicking, thinking that she'd failed a test or someone else had spilled coffee on her again.

Sakura felt bloated and her cramps seemed particularly vicious this cycle and she was going back and forth between wanting a hug and hissing at Itachi to not touch her. (A tiny, bitter voice in the back of her head mumbled about how this was all _his_ fault, _man's_ fault, because if those sons of bitches didn't need to impregnate women like her to continue this vicious cycle called life and birth, Sakura and womankind wouldn't have to go through the nine layers of hell a week every month.)

Itachi must have seen something in her eyes because he backed up slowly and held up his hands. "Babygirl," he said slowly.

Sakura let out something that might have resembled a hiss. Even his voice was making her irritated and _logically_ she knew that it shouldn't, that it was just the hormones talking, but _goddamnit_ she wanted to kill him.

He blinked at her. Opened his mouth; closed it. "Hungry?" he finally tried, his voice much softer this time.

Her hormones perked up at that.

And dinner, bless this man, was amazing. Sakura ate more than she should've while Itachi just sat across from her, staring, before a little lightbulb went off in his head as he excused himself to make a phone call. Sakura didn't even look up as he left.

Ten minutes after dinner, Itachi got a call and left the room, having bundled Sakura up in two blankets and found a heating pad that rested between her legs. She was watching _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ and had been enjoying the feeling of Itachi's hands in her hair.

When he came back, it was with her favorite carrot cake and some gift from god that was a chocolate concoction that was fudge and milk chocolate and a thin layer of cake smothered in more chocolate that practically melted in her mouth.

It was at that moment Sakura knew Itachi was _the one_.

It was also the moment Holly Golightly had thrown Cat away and was looking for him in the rain and calling _Cat! Caaaattt! Cat!_

Sakura started crying.

When Itachi tried to touch her, play with her hair, rub her back where it felt like someone had put their hands in her intestines and started squeezing and grinding, _anything_ , she just started to shake her head. She tried to think of a polite way of telling him that if he so much as put a finger on her right then, she was going to get angry. _No_ , she didn't know _why_ she would get angry, only that she was crying but wasn't _really_ sad and the idea of him touching her right then made her skin crawl.

After about twenty minutes of this, that of which included both Itachi and Sakura eating slices of cake off pretty plates on the couch in the living room, Sakura's plate having seen the beginning and end of many more slices that Itachi's, her cramps died down enough to not feel like she needed to be bent over.

When she looked up, ready to apologize to Itachi about her hormones and maybe make a joke about how it's only for a week, she found him watching her. He was sitting perfectly still, just looking at her with wide eyes, an untouched slice of cake still on it.

Sakura swallowed down the last bite of cake on her plate. She opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ to get that look off his face, when he beat her to it and said, "Can you give me a schedule?"

She blinked. "What?"

"A schedule. Of . . . you know." He made a vague gesture to her low region. "Of this. So next time I can prepare."

"Oh." Very suddenly, Sakura felt guilty. She felt the lump in her throat start to rise again, tears on the horizon. "You don't have to do that—"

"No, no." Itachi shook his head. "I want to. Because if this is what my future looks like I'd like to be prepared."

Sakura blinked and went back and forth between being amused, insulted, sad, and angry.

"Does—" Itachi swallowed. He looked incredibly awkward and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Does anything help? Like . . . massages? Or some kind of food?"

"I—" Sakura stammered. "Uh, it just—it just kind of depends? I go back and forth between wanting full on body contact and feeling like if anyone touches me I'll kill them."

Itachi looked petrified.

Sakura hastily added, "But as for food . . . sweet things are always good." She gestured to the cakes, more than half eaten. "I mean, you don't need to go all out like this next time, but chocolate and candy and ice cream—" oh, god, now she was thinking about ice cream and she _wanted it_. "—are always good things to have on hand."

Itachi nodded. "I'll have the cakes ready next time."

"It's too much—"

He gave her the look of a man devoid of all hope. "Babygirl, if chocolate cake is what is needed to prevent you from either murdering me in my sleep or suddenly crying again, there is no price tag I care about."

"You never care about price tags." Sakura felt her heart warm at his words, her hormones once again rising their ugly heads. "But the crying will likely happen with or without cake."

Itachi just looked at her as if she'd shot him. "Is there anything—"

She gave him a sad, pained smile as the cramps started again. "If there was anything that helped, trust me, I would've found it."

And when later that night Itachi had been the victim of two more crying episodes, a snarky comment about the number of shoes he owned, and then suddenly having his lap full of Sakura as she asked (read: demanded) for him to brush her hair, the poor man had already begun to make a budget plan in his head to start up a research team to discover a cure to menstrual cycle pain and crazy hormones.

* * *

Author's Note: I have once again been peer pressured into writing this, short though it is. Ya'll are needy for Sugar Daddy!Itachi and I'm loving it. You've all been incredibly kind in your comments about this story, and I'm still amazed at how many people seem to want more of this.

Please **REVIEW!** Tell me what you liked and what scenario you might want to see next! I love hearing from you guys! ;]


	4. Chapter 4

Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

Sakura made herself a promise one night, as she lay awake next to a sleeping Itachi after getting home from a social function to raise money for children in need.

It had been one of those nights that something in her just seemed to die a little. She loved Itachi. She did—she'd come to that conclusion after almost three months since they started dating, and she hadn't really known what to do with the realization. It didn't hit her out of nowhere; it had crept up on her in the same way sleep creeps up on you as you lay in bed: slowly and drowsily, and the next morning you could never pinpoint exactly when you fell asleep, only that you had.

She'd told him she loved him that night. After the function, after a man had leered at her when Itachi had left her side to go converse with some politician Sakura was not a fan of and knew she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut if the woman said something Sakura didn't agree with. Something biting and not obvious to anyone but Itachi, who was always mixed between squeezing her arm in a way that said _babygirl, it's really not worth it_ and attempting to rein in his amused snort. The damn woman tended to speak to any other woman like they should automatically agree with everything she was saying because they shared the same gender, otherwise what kind of feminist were they?

Sakura's eye twitched just thinking about it.

The leering man was the CEO of another corporation Sakura didn't care nearly enough to learn the name of. He had white hair tied into a short ponytail and he'd introduced himself earlier, bending over her hand to kiss the back of it, but Sakura had immediately forgotten it.

He'd started off mostly polite, complimenting Sakura on her black dress and the diamond earrings Itachi had given her earlier that day. He'd known the designer without Sakura telling him—though she wouldn't have been able to remember it had he asked—and asked her about the functions and societies and ladies gatherings she was involved in.

"I'm a medical student, actually," she said. "I work and I study and don't particularly have any interest in any ladies gatherings of any kind." She paused. "Well, unless it involves discussions on the overbearing patriarch system and inequalities across the board, since they don't belong to only one end of the political spectrum." There was something about these functions that made Sakura speak her mind. She was still debating on if it was a good or bad thing.

He'd blinked down at her, almost fondly. His glasses glinted in the light. "Of course. But what about Mr. Uchiha?"

Darn. She'd been hoping her words would deter him and get him to awkwardly excuse himself and leave her to drink her champagne in peace. "What about him?"

"Well, if you continue on with your relationship, it will be expected for him to have a date to functions such as these, and it never hurts to have a wife involved in those kinds of things."

Her fingers tightened around her glass. "Itachi has made it clear that he holds no expectations for me to change my plans, just as I have no desire to deter him from his ambitions."

"Of course," he said again. "I only meant—"

"That because Itachi is the CEO to a very successful and growing company that his needs rank above mine, is what you mean to say," Sakura sighed. She looked down at her glass, now nearly empty. Where were those lovely men walking around with the trays of alcohol when you needed them?

His eyes hardened and his chin raised higher. She thought that maybe this wasn't worth the fight, that maybe she was overreacting just a little bit, but she'd seen this man talk down to more than a few women and wives of other benefactors at other functions Itachi had brought her along to, had heard the hidden condescending words and watched as those women noticed, but said nothing.

Before he could open his mouth, Sakura continued, "Do you know what a healthy relationship consists of? It's balance. Never expecting someone else to change for you. Itachi is who he is and I love him for it. If he wants me to join some little women's function to raise money or donations, I might be all for it so long as it's for a good cause. But I'd like to think I know him well enough to know he'd never insinuate that I quit medical school or my dreams to become his perfect little wife. If I ever do choose to do that, it will be _my_ choice. If I choose to become a successful doctor and never go to another function like this again, it will be _my_ choice. If I choose to be a happy housewife with perfect little children who learns how to smile properly and wear skirts every day, it will be _my_ choice. There is nothing wrong with _any_ choice."

Sakura took a breath and took a step forward, dropping her voice low. "Men tend to put women into nice little categories. If I become successful on my own, I'm heartless and don't care about my husband or children. If I become a housewife, I'm lazy and living off my husband and am only with him for his money." Sakura could see Itachi walking towards her with the female politician at his side, eyeing their hushed conversation with interest. "And I'm not particularly interested in any of your opinions on my life choices."

When Itachi joined her, she looped her arm through his as Itachi gave a small, distant smile to the white-haired man. The female politician gave him a wide smile and stretched her hand out. "Hello. I don't think we've met before."

Sakura proceeded to sip the drink Itachi had waved over for her and watch the idiot man stand through the female politician's spiel about inequality and the evil of the patriarchy. Sakura may not agree with the woman on a lot of things, but, goddamn, she admired her feistiness.

When Sakura and Itachi got in the car to go home, he leaned over her and said, "Do you want me to ruin him?"

She wiggled her toes after immediately slipping off her heels the minute she'd sat down. "Would you lose money? He's tied to your company in some way, isn't he?"

Itachi shrugged one shoulder. "Not too much. Kabuto has always been a thorn in my side."

Sakura leaned back and closed her eyes, letting Itachi play with her hair. "Use him, then. Keep the money you're getting out of him and make him invest with that woman's campaign so he can sit through her opinions more often."

She could feel his eyes boring into her. After a pause, he said, "You hate that woman."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but it'll be fun to see those two pitted against each other. If they fail, they can fail together. No reason for you to lose money."

Itachi grunted. "Hn. You scare me sometimes, babygirl." He leaned closer to her, causing Sakura to crack open an eye to see him looking down at her with a cat-like smirk. "It's also amazingly attractive."

She swatted his arm and laughed.

Later that night, after Itachi had made her give a play-by-play to him of her and Kabuto's conversation and eyeing her with pride and a bit of lust, he fell asleep first. Sakura laid there in bed, listening to him breathe and thinking more about what their future might look like. She thought about what she'd said to Kabuto. She thought about what she wanted. She and Itachi never talked about it, but what about children? Marriage?

She closed her eyes. It was something she very rarely let herself think about. She dreaded having the conversation, because she thought Itachi would maybe want children, and the truth was . . . Sakura didn't.

Her mother had used to say that it would change once she met the right guy. Like meeting the right guy would awaken every hidden maternity hormone in her and get her uterus ready for breeding.

It wasn't that she didn't like children, but she never got all happy when she saw a baby or toddler doing something adorable. She'd smile and make funny faces at a kid, but she'd never had any real desire for one of her own. She'd never dreamed of it.

If Itachi asked . . . if he really wanted one, Sakura thought she might do it for him. She knew she wouldn't dislike the child—in fact, she knew that if she did ever have one, she'd spoil it rotten. She'd adore it.

But then what about her career? She didn't want to give it up, but she didn't particularly like the idea of sending her kid to daycare or hiring a nanny. Itachi would probably want to stay home all day with the kid or bring it to work, but Sakura didn't think it was actually feasible. In reality, Sakura thought that if she did ever get pregnant, she'd give up her career. She'd still be busy with other things, would find something else to do, but she'd never forgive herself if she neglected her child because she was getting called into work at all times of the day and night.

She thought back to what Mikoto had mumbled when she'd met her, about finally getting those grandchildren.

Turning onto her side, Sakura looked at Itachi's sleeping face. Mouth slightly parted, arm flung over above his head, turned slightly towards her side of the bed like always.

She whispered, "I love you," and promised herself that she wouldn't change for Itachi, not for anyone. Because if either she or Itachi changed for the other like that, she didn't think they'd ever forgive themselves or each other.

* * *

After being together for more than a year, Itachi brought up the topic.

Sakura looked at him over dinner and said, "I don't really want children."

And Itachi—mused from a long day of work, having changed from his business suit into sweats and a black, loose fitting T-shirt—just nodded and said, "Okay."

Her fork full of spaghetti hung between her plate and mouth. "Are you . . . okay with that?"

He swallowed his mouthful of food and eyed her. "Babygirl, if you're not more than a hundred percent sure you want children, I wouldn't be okay with having one. My desire for children is in direct correlation with your want to have children."

And because it was Sakura's time of month again and Itachi's research team had yet to come up with a cure for menstrual cramps and crazy hormones, she started to cry.

* * *

Author's Note: Oh, look at this, another update. This one more serious than the others. Here ya go. (I am enjoying the amount of peer pressure ya'll are putting on me to continue this. I'm still surprised anyone likes this idea, but I very much appreciate the continued support, especially right now when I'm super stressed and have been having a rough time.)

Please **REVIEW**!


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